


the old laws

by PrincessoftheBirds



Series: our morals are not your morals [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Adults who don't put the entire world on children's shoulders, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, BAMF Rock Lee, Badass Women, Child Snatching Is Not A Recommend Method of Child Acquisition, Disabled Characters, Dont know yet - Freeform, Family, Fuuinjutsu, Gen, Morals Verse, Non combatants are just as important as front line fighters, Original Character-centric, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Selectively Mute Characters, Shinobi with Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Sign Language, Smart Uzumaki Naruto, Team as Family, canon is my bitch now babey, mute characters, rating may change at some point, supportive family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessoftheBirds/pseuds/PrincessoftheBirds
Summary: As many do, this story begins on a particular October night, with the attack of the Kyūbi no Yōko Shūrai. As the Kyūbi wreaked havoc, sending the village into confused chaos, a small group of masked shinobi weaved through shadows and darted between cover.They would leave in much the same way, a precious bundle hidden within folds of fabric and in arms more accustomed to violence than kindness





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and I hope you enjoy it! I hope the abundance of ocs isn't too much of a deterrent, as there's really no way around that when dealing with fanclans :)
> 
> This is my indulgence baby, so please be kind to it!

As many do, this story begins on a particular October night, with the attack of the Kyūbi no Yōko Shūrai. As the Kyūbi wreaked havoc, sending the village into confused chaos, a small group of masked shinobi weaved through shadows and darted between cover.

Slipping through the alleyways, they splintered into several groups of three shinobi each and spread out throughout the burning village. One shinobi, adorned with a white mask and golden crown, slipped several trinkets into their pockets, while another, this one in subdued browns and a crown-less mask, lifted rubble off of a trapped civilian. Their third kept an eye out for the native shinobi, one hand resting at the ready on the crimson handle of their blade.

Flashing through hand signs, the three melted back into the shadows, just in time to avoid the detection of a young Leaf nin who ran down the street and up onto the rooftops. Just as suddenly as they appeared, and with nothing but the slightest rush of air, the three shinobi disappeared. It would be there, in the shadows, that they laid in wait, observing the people, and watching the children.


	2. younger than four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If the child's younger than four, they're yours to adore. But don't take from good families, it'll be the last of your follies"  
> \- Ancient Clan Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_"If the child's younger than four, they're yours to adore. But don't take from good families, it'll be the last of your follies"_**  
>  - Ancient Clan Proverb

 

 _[Mission status?]_ the crowned shinobi tilted his head, much like a young wolf.

Hefting up a small bundle of blankets, one of the crown-less shinobi revealed a small child with whisker marked cheeks. Carefully stroking one of those soft cheeks, they handed the child over to another, freeing their hands to sign. _[Success. Four children located and retrieved, to be re-homed to acceptable parents.]_

The other three-man squads stepped up, each bearing a child, none older than a year or so. The eldest child, a little thing with remarkable eyebrows and wide black eyes, successfully broke the formality of the report by burping up on both himself and the shinobi carrying him. The shinobi gingerly holds the child away from themself, a nearly inaudible sign escaping them.

 _[Would you like me to take him, Ichiren-bozu?]_ the crowned shinobi asked with an amused air. The shinobi dubbed Ichiren-bozu nodded wearily, passing the child to the other.

 _[Thank you, Okuri-ōkami,]_ they looked at their clothes, and sighed, _[We should get going. The sooner we return, the sooner I can change.]_

 _[It would be unwise to linger longer, yes.]_ the crowned shinobi acknowledged, and with that, they set off, four precious bundles hidden within the folds of fabric and in arms more accustomed to violence than kindness.

* * *

 _[It is not often that so many children are retrieved in one trip, young Okuri-ōkami]_ a smiling young woman with ivory skin and eyes of molten gold signs from where she is seated among plump cushions and soft blankets, a small child curled up, asleep, against her hip. Vibrant red silk shifted as she moved, absently tugging a blanket up over the child’s shoulders. Her golden earrings chimed softly as she tilted her head. Before her sat four shinobi, each holding a child.

The crowned shinobi, Okuri-ōkami, made a slight noise of agreement, _[The circumstances were certainly unique, haha-ue. Each squad had encountered at least one child in need of relocating. Tengu’s squad encountered three who were not young enough to take without more in-depth planning.]_  

Taking a deep breath, Okuri-ōkami sat the eldest babe upon the ground and reached up and behind to tug the ties of his mask loose. As he removed mask and veiled crown, deep ebony hair tumbled down his shoulders in an inky river and pale skin seemed to glow in the flickering candle light. Golden eyes held steady with the regal woman for only a moment, before he bowed low, pressing his forehead against the wooden floors. His shoulders shook subtly. Surprise radiated off of the nin present, and of the woman herself, as he opened his mouth and began to speak.

“Haha-ue, I, Deirdre of the Ōkami line, present before you a babe of no name, and of no kin. I humbly beg that you would gift this child to the Ōkami line, to raise and cherish as one of their own,” he pleaded, voice soft and silvery, but rough with disuse. For a moment, he seemed surprised by his own actions, before firming into determination. The three nin behind him gasped, surprised and honored in equal measures, for one’s voice was not a gift to be given lightly. For him to speak, in the presence of mere teammates and acquaintances…

The woman blinked, shock seeping through the serenity of her smile, and reached out. Delicate bird-bone fingers lifted his chin, encouraging him to look at her. As he does as she bid, her other hand raises to his neck, pressing against his pulse.

“Child mine, I hear your pleas, and so I shall answer.”

Swiftly, her grip tightened, holding him in place with both hand and piercing golden gaze. She spoke quietly, tone soft but unyielding, “Do you swear, upon your voice and your soul, to protect this child? To provide for him and to guide him?”

“I swear.”

“And do you swear to never raise hand nor voice to this child?”

“I swear.”

Molten gold bore into gold. Lion pride circled the lone wolf, sizing him up, searching for weakness. The wolf’s gaze did not waver. Despite the vulnerabilities of his position, he does not move to escape, only trusts in the lioness’ goodwill. Trust that she will not harm the life she holds in her hands.

With a pleased smile, the woman released him, brushing a curtain of ink away from his face, “And so I say, this child is now son of the Ōkami line. Rise, my child, and name your son.”

Deirdre slowly raised from his bowed position, back straightening vertebrae by vertebrae and he reached out to pick his new son up. He cradled the boy in his arms.

“I name you Yoshi, of the Ōkami line,” Deirdre whispered, and stood. He bowed once more to the woman, ink black hair sliding over his shoulder, and left the room.

 

The woman watched him go with a fond smile, before clapping her hands and turning to the three other shinobi. _[Now, onto the next child, ne?]_

 

They froze, before the kunoichi in a plain white mask scoffed at her teammates and moved forward, taking her mask off. She knelt before the woman. A child with sunshine yellow hair rested in a sling on her chest. Determination shined in her eyes as she stared into the woman's eyes, burning fierce and daring her to deny her demands.

 _[I would like to take this child of the sun into my House, haha-ue]_ she signed, stroking the sleeping sunbeam’s face, along those little whisker marks.

Happily, the matriarchal woman tilted her head as she signed,  _[And do you accept the same vows as Deirdre before you? To protect this child, and to never raise hand nor voice to them?]_

_[I do.]_

_[And so I say, this child is now son of Chihiro of the Twelve Heralds. Gift a name to your son.]_

Smiling down at the babe, Chihiro knew the perfect name for a child such as he,  _[I name you Haruto, for you are a child of sunshine.]_

A moment passed.

Chihiro stood up.

 _[Captain will be by with a written, in-depth report later, haha-ue.]_ she announced, before twisting on her heel and striding out.

 

 _[Ah the impatience of youth!]_ the woman gushed, even as she turned mischievous scheming eyes onto the last two shinobi, and the babes they held. Within the span of a second or so, only the last kunoichi was left sitting alone before the woman. Her teammate had fled in a panic. The woman began to frown, only to cease as the kunoichi started giggling.

 _[One of the babes puked on him, on the way back, haha-ue, and he’s now determined to stay childless,]_ she explained in between giggling fits,  _[and if it is quite alright, I’d like to take these two both into House Tori?]_

_[Are you sure you can handle both, young Yuki-onna? Two infants is no small task…]_

_[I am sure, haha-ue.]_ she smiled down at the two babes, hazy eyes already holding such deep affections for the two little lives. She stroked the young girl's tufts of pink hair, and fixed the dark haired little boys swaddle of blankets.  _[I feel like a sibling would do them both good.]_

 _[Well, if you are sure.]_ the woman conceded,  _[Now take off your mask. This is a task for Aki, not Yuki-onna.]_

 _[Hai, haha-ue.]_ Aki quickly agreed, deftly unknotting the strings of her mask and setting it aside. The woman reached out, holding Aki’s face between her hands and staring into her eyes before removing her hands to sign.

_[Aki of the Twelve Heralds, do you swear, upon your voice and your soul, to protect these children? To provide for and guide them?]_

_[I swear upon my very voice and soul, haha-ue.]_

_[And do you swear to never raise hand nor voice to these children?]_

_[I swear it, haha-ue.]_

Pale gold eyes stared up into vibrant molten gold, praying for her oaths to be accepted. A long moment passed.

The mother reached out, holding both of Aki’s hands in her own as she murmured, “And so I say, these children are now of Aki of the Twelve Heralds. They are yours to name, just as you were mine to name, young Aki.”

 

With a tremulous smile and a rough voice, Aki named her new children; Ken, in hopes that he would grow strong and healthy, and Misaki, for her blossom pink hair and her beautiful soul. As she gathered both children in her arms, she glanced up at her haha-ue with a burning curiosity, but left without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference of Okuri-ōkami/Deirdre: https://doodlesofaprincess.tumblr.com/post/185998361101/its-him-my-boy  
> References of Chihiro/Hinoenma and Aki/Yuki-onna: https://doodlesofaprincess.tumblr.com/post/189915368211/chihiro-and-aki-of-the-twelve-heralds


	3. a house is made a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> repairs and revelations are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd

Days later, within the confines of his family home, Deirdre cradled the tiny child in his arms, gently shushing his cries. Hearing the slightest rustle of fabric, he looked up. A woman with purple tinted black hair that shielded half her face stood leaning against the door frame, serpentine amber eyes watching him and Yoshi. Black marks stood out harshly against her powder pale skin, slashed along her cheekbones. In the comfort of her home, her hair fell loose down her back and she wore a soft purple tunic, rather than her usual stiff black, high collared blouses and purple-dyed leather shoulder harness. The low collar of her tunic revealed burn scars in the shape of grasping hands upon her throat and shoulder. The severe woman, his dearest sister and the woman who raised him, Michiko, stared him down, before glancing at young Yoshi, her eyes softening.

“How iss he adjussting to the familia mark, otouto?” her voice, while undeniably serpentine and hissing, held a soft sort of musical lilt.

Deirdre smiled at her, tired and wane, but loving all the same, “He fares as well as can be expected, ane-ue.” He gently brushed the babes dark hair aside, revealing an ever so slightly inflamed mark upon his forehead. Little pointed ears stuck out through the mass of black. “There was something with his chakra system that interfered, but the healers assure me that it should settle with time.”

Michiko hummed, pushing herself up to walk over. She held her hands out, “Let me hold him. I wissh to properly meet my young nephew.”

With only the slightest hesitance, one born of mother-henning tendencies that he vehemently denied the existence of, Deirdre passed Yoshi over to Michiko, who quickly settled the child in her arms. She hummed and swayed lightly, eyes soft. Long, thin fingers reached out to gently touch the tip of one of Yoshi’s newly pointed ears, sliding to stroke his little cheek. She shifted, letting his head lay upon her chest. Slowly but surely, with the sound of her heartbeat against his ear and the gentle swaying, his cries slowed to a hiccup, before disappearing into the arms of sleep. 

Deirdre sagged against her arm, bone deep relief and exhaustion evident in every line of his body. Michiko chuckled softly, more a soft snuffling noise than any true chuckle, and with well rehearsed motions, herded her foolish little brother towards his bedroom. 

A bassinet of white wood and blue cloth sat near his bed, and she gently settled Yoshi in it, humming all the while. After he was coaxed back to sleep, she turned her attention to her little brother, who swayed from exhaustion, dead on his feet. He blinked up at her, bleary eyed. She indulged in a soft smile as she began the arduous process of getting the lanky teen into bed. Giggling softly as his sluggish attempts to help were unsuccessful, she untied his hair, the thick locks fell in inky waves, and expertly removed his jacket. Through a mixture of gentle nudges and soft murmurs, Michiko guided him into bed and under the covers, stroking his hair and tucking him in, much like she did when he was younger and he would sneak into her bed. Deirdre was always such an anxious child, so easy to spook.  

In the quiet of the room, lit only by the dying golden rays of sunlight, she whispered a solemn oath, “Worry not, dear Deirdre. No harm will come to you or Yosshi, not while I am here. You may sssleep easy. I swear this on my blood and voice.”

 

* * *

 

  
Aki had a problem. She had avoided the family compound for years now. Too many memories stained it, stained black and blue and purple with old hurts and betrayals that never truly faded, not even after several generations. She’d been fine with it, had lived out of a small apartment. It wasn’t like anyone could judge her for it; her own mother avoided the house like the plague, and she was the Matriarch herself. The history there was too painful, and sometimes it felt like the ghosts of their ancestors still haunted those old walls.

But now that small apartment wouldn’t cut it, not with two infants. Especially when they got older. They’d need space to run, to play. Her apartment wouldn’t be enough for them, and it would be wrong to harm them in the midst of her own cowardice.

And so, with great reluctance and no small amount of fear, did she walk up the overgrown pathways to the house she was raised on ghost stories of.

Deep within the lands of the Clan, hidden within a small clearing surrounded by trees, just past the rice fields, sat a rather large walled compound. Her family’s compound, one that had laid empty and abandoned for several generations now. Several buildings sat within the walls, one large main house, flanked by two smaller homes and a bathhouse, just past an overgrown garden and courtyard. The three houses were all in a state of severe disrepair. The houses hadn’t been repaired, not after her great grandparents had fled the memories held within. The damages remained, even as the living left. The main house sat up off the ground, and Aki slowly walked up, picking her way through the overgrown garden. She thanked the ancestors that Michiko had offered to watch the twins for the day. On shaky legs, she stepped up onto the bamboo engawa veranda of the main house. Shards of glass crunched underfoot. The bamboo under her feet creaked and groaned alarmingly. Clearly, the house was in much worse condition than she'd originally thought.

The old tatami mats were worn out and in desperate need of replacing, she noted, hands shaking. The shoji doors had torn washi in them but were otherwise in fine condition.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Aki began to explore the house she hadn't set foot in since she was a student herself. A good half of the shoji were either completely destroyed, or the washi within them was alternatively slashed apart or burnt. Many others had simply decayed from years of neglect.

Behind those torn doors was a decently sized living room, that split into a few medium-sized rooms through the wooden beams and faded old fusuma panels, painted with mountain scenery. One of the panels lay on the ground. Other than the fallen fusuma panel and the faded colors, they were in functional enough condition, thankfully.

To the left, past the living room and down a small set of stairs, sat an old kitchen. The sink was of a rustic style, having no faucet and the kitchen lacked any sort of modern appliances. The house had laid empty for too long. A set of shoji doors lay broken on the ground, the opening leading out to the back courtyard. It was closed in by the main house and was just as overgrown as the front courtyard. An old well sat in the center, and a worn-down shed was situated against the far wall. Great-grandfather once mentioned that it’d been built by his grandfather for his grandmother, after she had tired of lugging the tools through the house.

To the right of the living room, past another pile of destroyed glass shoji doors and fusuma panels, sat the dining room. The tatami mats were charred, and what little wasn't burnt was worn out. The low table sat broken in the center of the room, and a broken tea set still lay in the debris. The zabuton cushions were scattered, and several were ripped apart. Off of the dining room was a hallway that led to bedrooms and a washroom, and a large study, still in miraculous condition.

The seals held, Aki realized, brushing her fingers over the carvings on the glass shoji doors. Trembling hands slid the doors open, stepping through into the study. The large bookcases lined the far wall, still stuffed with scrolls and books, just like great grandma said great great grandfather always had them. Approaching the great desk, she ran her hand lightly over the dusty surface, admiring the craftsmanship. Hands curled into fists, she made a vow.

She would restore this compound, would restore her lines honor. For the two little souls that now depended on her. For the memories of sitting at her grandfather’s knee, starry-eyed as he wove tales of their samurai ancestors.

Determined, Aki swept out of the study, only for the floorboards of the hallway to break underfoot, sending her face-first into the ground.

Ow. That shit hurted.

Pulling herself back up, Aki carefully groped around for her glasses, and after finding them, examined the scratches along her calf. Prodding them, she shrugged and got up, walking much more carefully as she made her way to the backyard.

Once again picking her way through a veritable jungle of foliage, Aki fought her way to the old shed. It took a few strong yanks, but she got the door open, coughing as a mountain of dust assaulted her. With a creative bit of wind jutsu, Aki cleared the dust and peered into the dark shed. Cobwebs filled the rafters, and junk laid on many of the shelves and all over the ground. An old bike, with a metal basket, leaned against the back wall, and there on a table sat what she was looking for.

Great-grandfather’s unnecessarily fancy, sealed toolbox. Ducking into the shed, she lugged the toolbox up and out of the shed, navigating the overgrown yard back to the back engawa. A quick motion had her daggers in hand, and she pricked her thumb, pressing the bloody appendage against the sealed lock on the toolbox.

Taking stock of the tools, Aki rolled her sleeves up and got ready for the long, arduous process of rebuilding her family compound.

The house would always hold bad memories, but… maybe now, she could make new ones, with these two kids. She could make sure the betrayals and hurts of her ancestors would not taint Misaki and Ken’s new childhood home. It was about time for them to come home, she thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Chihiro’s young charge stirred up quite a bit of drama when the Clan’s Seal Masters finally met him. Never before had they re-homed a jinchuuriki, usually due to rigorous surveillance by their villages and their age by the time they had discovered them. Jinchuuriki were dangerous to rehome. The ninja were fairly rabid about keeping them, and that was a mess that the clan would rather avoid, to be quite honest. Put the Clan’s generations of neutrality at risk. But alas, what is done is done, and Chihiro stubbornly, and with no shortage of violence, shut down anyone who suggested returning her little sunshine child, Haruto. Those foolish enough to suggest abandoning the child quickly learned to shut up, or face Chihiro, who held all the wrath of a nesting dragon.

In the end, the familia mark laid upon Haruto’s forehead, declaring to all that he was one of them. Thoroughly done with the drama and flailing of the Seal Masters, the mother and son retreated home, Haruto giggling all the way.

Chihiro didn’t bother with a separate nursery, not with Haruto being so young and especially not when she had such limited space in her apartment. Instead, she set up a simple crib beside her bed. Gently petting Haruto’s golden hair, she laid him on the dark orange sheets, watching him rest for a moment, something soft and content in her eyes. All too soon, she tore herself away and summoned a small fennec fox to watch over the child.

A quick snap got the foxes attention, his eyes zeroing in on her hands as she signed a quick introduction.

 _[This is Haruto, Tomoki, and he is my kit.]_ The summoner’s intense dark eyes bore into Tomoki. _[Protect him as you once protected me.]_

The desert fox regarded her, before practically bursting out with glee, dancing about on her bedspread, “About time you gave us a kit, Chi-chan!”

Tension successfully broke, Chihiro snorted at Tomoki’s antics and headed for the door. She waved absently, leaving to collect supplies for young Haruto. She had trust in her summons; they would ensure no harm came to the young boy.

And so the jinchuuriki of the nine-tailed fox was left in the care of a small fennec fox summon. Said summon curled up near Haruto, neatly tucking his paws beneath himself as he kept watch over the young kit.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for word to spread amongst the clan. The Compound had been abandoned for years, and now young Aki was restoring it? It was practically a miracle.

Word even reached the many civilians who lived under the Clan’s protection. As the sun rose, the villagers awoke and began their days. Children headed off for their schooling, and many of the adults headed for the fields.

On that early morning, in the rice fields, the villagers gossiped. Some were skeptical, mainly those too young to remember the kind family that once inhabited the old compound. They thought she’d run back to the city, once she realized the work country living took, and a few even bets on how long she’d last. Others were all too excited to see the place restored to its former glory, and spoke their support for the young mother.

With word going as it did, it didn’t take long for Aki’s teammates, Chihiro, Deirdre, and Rikuto, to come around to check on her and to offer their assistance.

Deirdre, the youngest of them all at only 17, lead them up the path to the open gates of the compound, one hand nervously pulling at his bangs. The front garden and courtyard were still overgrown and messy, but Aki had cut it back away from the gravel path leading to the main house doors. Deirdre let out a whine of distress at the disorderly sight, tugging sharply at his hair. Rikuto, the eldest of them, shook his head and pulled ahead to walk level with Deirdre. Reaching out, he pulled the teen’s hand away from his hair and pulled him along. He knew from experience that Deirdre would freeze up if he didn’t act. Gazing at the main house, he noted the doors had been removed and were leaning against the wall. Several burlap bags full of debris were set just off of the engawa. Aki herself was knelt on the front engawa, repairing and replacing the bamboo planks.

She was clad in a pale yellow kimono with delicate blue flowers embroidered on the sleeves and black hakama. The sleeves of the kimono and the ends of the hakama were haphazardly bound down with fraying white fabric. Her hair was bound up in a messy bun, and her ever-present jacket was folded up on top of a toolbox. A pair of simple geta sat beside the toolbox, half-hidden by the folds of the jacket. Hearing the approach, she looked up and grinned. Chihiro smirked, waving while Deirdre let out a distressed keen as she and Rikuto pulled him through the messy courtyard.

Aki bounced up to them, wiping the sweat off with a dirty cloth, only managing to smear dirt across her forehead. Tossing the cloth to lay on a pile of bamboo planks, she signed a greeting to them.

 _[Hiya, guys! What brings you out here?]_ she tilted her head, eyeing the basket hanging on Deirdre’s arm.

Chihiro smirked, ruffling Deirdre’s hair before responding, _[Puppy here wanted to bring some housewarming gifts. Rikuto and I thought we’d offer some extra pairs of hands, ay?]_

Clapping in delight, Aki cooed at Deirdre, who shoved the basket into her arms. Chihiro almost immediately pulled the cloth covering away, revealing pastries and small bentos.

 _[..Michiko helped me make it, so don’t eat it all at once!]_ he rushed out, fingers clumsy and uncoordinated and a few of his signs embarrassingly off. He whirled around to face Chihiro, his pale cheeks burning red, _[And don’t call me Puppy!]_

Rikuto burst into rambunctious laughter, and Aki soon fell into giggles. Chihiro just about busted her gut, loudly laughing her ass off and slapping Deirdre on the back. He pouted at them.

After the three had calmed down, with only Aki occasionally giggling, Deirdre turned to her, head tilted. _[Aki, is there any way I could assist you in the restoration of the compound?]_ Both Rikuto and Chihiro chimed in their own offers of assistance.

Still giggling, Aki smiled and nodded, motioning for the three to follow her inside the house. The house, while still nowhere near finished, and still in a state of serious disrepair, was looking better than before. All of the shoji and fusuma had been pulled out, leaving the house an open space with only the wooden posts and beams. The old worn-out tatami mats had been removed and a pile of new ones sat in the genkan, waiting to be installed. Most of the dust and cobwebs were gone, though much more would no doubt accumulate as they worked. In the kitchen, several appliances sat, uninstalled.

 _[Riku-chan, you worked with the P &P Guilds, ne?]_ Aki asked.

_[Hai, hai. Don’t call me chan.]_

Aki giggled. _[Think you remember enough to handle the kitchen? I’m hopeless with so hopeless with plumbing and wiring!]_

Rikuto nodded, _[I’ll go steal Kuro and grab my tools. Be back soon.]_ He headed back out, hands shoved in his pockets.

Before she could say anything, Deirdre volunteered to work on the floorboards in the house, citing that he had assisted Michiko when she redid the floors in their home. Aki spun around, grinning down at Chihiro, _[Hiro-chan!! Come help me with the engawa!]_

Chihiro smirked indulgently, allowing the excitable woman to drag her out the front door. She gently corrected their course when Aki nearly brained herself on the door frame.

Deirdre smiled behind his hand, watching them go, before neatly shedding his arm guards, cloak and outer shirt, folding them and setting them on a small table by the door. Pulling a few small pins out, he pinned his bangs back out of his face and took stock of the floors of the common areas. Many spots were weak and damaged and had to be fixed before the new tatami mats could be put down. Nodding to himself, he got to work.

 

* * *

 

 

Months passed, and eventually, Aki smiled in exhausted pride as she stood in the center of the newly assembled nursery, her thick glasses askew and liberal amounts of dust in her dark hair. Two bassinets sat against one wall, wherein she had settled young Ken and Misaki to sleep only a short hour ago. A plush pale yellow rug laid on the floor, fending off the swiftly approaching chill of winter, and a small pile of toys sat only the edge of it. Next to the toys sat two small wardrobes. A line of large bookcases, each stuffed to the brim with books and scrolls, and a beautiful desk, set against the far wall, revealed the rooms old purpose. In the center of the bookcases was a small reading nook, tucked away in the deep sill of a window. Small flowers were painted along the edges of the glass. Directly in front of this small nook, still sat her great great grandfather’s desk. She figured it’d be nice to work in there while still allowing the kids to play, and hopefully, one day she could pass it onto them.

After several fraught months of tireless work, she had finally gotten the nursery set up and had the common areas mostly finished, though there were still months of work ahead to get the house up to snuff, and weeks more to bring it up to Deirdre’s standards of orderly.

Soft golden light lit the room, and all was quiet. Until it was not.

Ken, having woken up from his nap to find himself not within the warm, comforting arms of his new mother, wailed at the top of his tiny lungs, which in turn woke Misaki, who expressed her displeasure in an equally loud manner. With a deep and weary sigh, she made her way over to the two and lifted them up and settled them into a sling, rocking them and humming nonsensically as she walked to the common room. She sidestepped around her futon, nudged a laundry basket aside with her foot, and danced around building supplies and leftover debris.

Gentle hands held the two tiny babes as Aki sat down on a cushion, her legs stretching out under the kotatsu. A string of golden bells were pulled from a pouch on her belt, jingling merrily in the quiet room. Misaki and Ken’s giggles rang out as she dangled the bells before them, gently swaying to the beat of an unheard melody. The two children quickly calmed from their earlier distress, comforted by the warmth of Aki’s arms and the tinkling of the golden bells.

Aki’s house, once a place of quiet mourning and the haunting ghosts of old betrayals, was now filled with the sounds of life, of children, and of the bells that once lived in her grandfather’s hair. With the sounds of friendship, and bonds that would forever go unbroken.

 

* * *

 

 

After the repairs to the bedrooms in Aki’s house were finished, it didn’t take long for her teammates to find themselves living with her, or for them to begin renovations on the other buildings of the compound.

It happened over time, with Aki stealing Chihiro’s clothes and Chihiro stealing Aki’s in return, with Deirdre’s spices and utensils ending up in the main house’s kitchen, or with Rikuto’s blankets slowly but surely migrating over. Yoshi and Haruto were over more often than not, sitting and playing with Misaki and Ken. At some point, each of them had realized they were a family, and that it only made sense that they lived with each other. Aki realized it last.

Aki finally realized her team, no her _family_ , had moved in when she walked in on Deirdre dancing about the kitchen, his hair bound up in a loose bun, a soft yellow apron on and singing softly, as he made dinner. Just like how he’d made dinner for the past three months, ever since he commandeered the kitchen after Chihiro almost blew it up trying to make breakfast. Apparently she wanted to celebrate Rikuto’s work on installing it by making him a meal.

She stood frozen in the doorway, on hand on the sliding door, staring at him as he turned to her, already, and get this, verbally scolding who he assumed was Chihiro for invading his kitchen. He trailed off, finally noticing that it was Aki, not Chihiro. A moment passed. His cheeks burned bright red as he stammered an apology.

Out of them all, Deirdre trusted the slowest and held his heart the closest. As a rule, Deirdre didn’t trust, and when he did, never enough to justify the gifting of his voice. Aki felt faint, still staring at him. She absently noted that his soft voice had a faint musical lilt to it, even when speaking.

“I’msosorryAki! Pleasedon’tbemad,I’msosorryforsnappingatyou!” She was pulled out of her funk as Deirdre wailed in distress, his words blurring together and pulling harshly at his hair. He’d taken her silence as anger, she noted. He must have noticed her habit of cold shouldering Chihiro when she pisses her off. She snapped into action, pulling the young man into a warm hug and petting his hair. She shushed him softly, murmuring her own apologies in his ear as she gently untangled his fingers from his hair.

She’d been so comfortable with them, had gotten so used to having them near, that she’d never even realized that she, herself, had gifted them her voice and that they, in turn, had gifted her their voices.

“Ok, who made my Puppy cry?” Chihiro’s gruff voice called from just behind them, startling her out of her thoughts. Deirdre, ever the mediator, immediately rushed to ensure that Chihiro wouldn’t take this as an excuse to start a fight.

“I’m perfectly ok, Chihiro, just a misunderstanding!” he went to pull on his hair, and Chihiro automatically caught his hand. She gave him a dubious look, before shrugging. They all trusted him to be open with them when it mattered.

“..Alright, Puppy.” she paused, “Your pork is burning.”

And with that, Deirdre pulled away with a gasp, running back to the now smoking stove top. Chihiro broke down laughing. Aki smiled fondly at the flailing Deirdre. Rikuto, who had just came in from the garden, pinched his nose and sighed at their antics.

Idiots, the lot of them.

 


	4. childhood

Years pass quickly, within a few short years, the renovations were finished, even on the other houses of the compound. The bathhouse was in mint condition, with new porcelain tiles and the hot springs restored to their former glory. The engawas were all new, and the old broken amado had been replaced. The once overgrown courtyard was now a beautiful place of relaxation, diligently taken care of by Deirdre, and a small training ground found its home in the backyard. Chihiro, Deirdre, and Aki quickly and unanimously agreed on sharing the main house. Rikuto took over the Eastern house, while Michiko, wishing to be closer to her brother and nephew, moved into the Western house.

As with many the clan had rehomed, the children eventually wondered why they, out of the many children of the world, were taken, and where they were taken from.

First was Haruto. With all the focus of a small toddler, he toddled up to Chihiro and tugged insistently at the fabric of her pants. Setting her book aside, she picked the little boy up and settled him in her lap. Clumsy fingers stumbled through shaky signs as he spoke, "Kaa-chan, where did I come from?"

Chihiro blinked slowly, running a hand through Haruto's golden spikes. She hummed, voice rumbling like a canine's growl, "You were found in one of those shinobi villages, the large ones. Your aunts and uncles and I were on a mission there, searching for children who may require rehoming, when my squad came across a heartbreaking scene in the local orphanage." She paused, tugging the boy closer. "We come upon the sight of you, so very tiny and all alone and crying in a puddle of your own waste. Not one of the orphanage matrons had bothered to come to assist you, even when we heard several walk by. Not even a minute later, I had dropped down from the rafters and picked you up, even though I was not supposed to leave cover yet."

She cracked a smile, and poked his nose, "When I held you, there in that filthy little room, I knew you were everything I could've ever wished for." Haruto giggled and settled back into her arms as she retrieved her book. After sitting silently for several moments, Haruto tugged on her, for once, loose hair, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Do you ever wish you had a real son?"

"Now, where did you get an idea like that, Haru-chan?" Chihiro frowned, smoothing her hand over his curls when he shied away.

"One of the kids at school said that since I don't come from your body, I ain't your real kid.." he mumbled, ducking his head and hiding behind the fall of his golden bangs.

Chihiro inhaled sharply. She gently but sternly urged him to look at her, "Oh, my little sunshine, they are wrong. Family is more than shared blood, and in all ways that matter, you are my child." She stared at him seriously, "I will never regret taking you in, and could never ask for a better son."

 

Not long after young Haruto brought his questions and worries to his kaa-chan, barely a few days later, Yoshi approached his otōsan and obasan with an uncharacteristic sense of solemnity. His inquiries mainly followed Haruto's own. It was Deirdre and Michiko who were different. Deirdre, being barely in his adult years, had never thought to prepare for such a possibility, and Michiko, being both biologically related to and the sister of the only child she's raised, had never been faced with the topic.

Yoshi had been absent-minded for most of the day, and the day before, (both days raising the concern and anxiety of young Deirdre) when he finally broached the topic.

"Otōsan, I am not your biological child," he stated bluntly, standing in the doorway of the common room. Michiko narrowed her eyes thoughtfully but did not speak. Her hands briefly paused in her needlework, before continuing. The soft sounds of the needle and thread seemed to echo. Deirdre, who had not expected this, took a moment to reply. His own needlework laid abandoned in his lap, bright threads stark against the blue.

"Yes, it is true that we do not come from the same bloodline." Deirdre tilted his head, much like the wolves of his Line. Deceptively slight hands twitched as they held the needle and hoop in loose fingers. Sharp amber eyes regarded his son seriously, narrow and intense and almost glowing in the fading light of evening. "What prompts this, Yoshi?"

A beat passes. And another. One breath, two breaths.

Yoshi's stares directly at Deirdre, dark eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. Despite the softness of his tone and volume, his words held a sense of steel. He would not be redirected or distracted from his line of questioning. "Where did I come from? And why did you choose to take me?"

Michiko hummed, and stood, all grace and meticulously restrained darkness. Bird bone thin fingers ghosted over Deirdre's shoulder, shifting the long fall of dark curls in a silent show of support. Narrow and eerily bright amber eyes regarded Yoshi intently. She hummed. On silent feet, she swept out of the room.

Deirdre sighed; a soft, deeply weary noise. Setting his needlework aside, he patted the spot beside him, and Yoshi sat, large dark eyes narrowed. His voice was soft with disuse but heavy with unspoken grief and overpowering empathy and endless sorrows, "We found you, alone and sobbing your little heart out, in the destroyed streets of a shinobi settlement. It was dangerous in the streets, and even as the attack ended and the dead were gathered, you were left there." His voice cracked, buckling under pain and anger and a fragile sort of despair and he stopped, gathering his thoughts. Pale eyes turned to Yoshi, ablaze with righteous fury and deep cutting sorrow.

"You were sso ssmall, just a babe, and they abandoned you in the ssstreetss." he hissed, gloved hands clutching Yoshi's own, cradling the little hands in the curl of his fingers. He bowed his head. A breath. Two. Deep, shuddering breaths. In, out. Calm. Raising his head, Deirdre stared into Yoshi's eyes, translucent yellow boring into deepest ebony, pleading for him to see the truth of his words, unpracticed words falling in an awkward rush, like the stumbling of a young deer over rough ground, "I will not lie to you, Yoshi. I don't know why I chose you. When we were there, in those broken streets, all I know is that at that moment, it felt as if I would miss out on something amazing if I let go, and I am so grateful that, by some miracle, I get to experience the joy of being your parent."

Quiet. The sound of crickets in the dim lantern light of the courtyard echoed.

Finally, after a long moment of tense silence, Yoshi cracked a crooked smile, and tackled his otōsan in a tight hug, knocking the breath out of him and erupting into bubbly, effervescent laughter. Landing with an oof, Deirdre hugged him back, just as tightly and securely. When they finally calmed, laying there on the tatami mats and Deirdre's elegant gloved hands running gently through Yoshi's hair, the young boy spoke, quiet and soft and full-hearted and warm, "I'm happy that you're my otōsan too."

Neither noticed Michiko slip away from the doorway she had lingered in, quiet feet gracefully dancing away from the common room. Unnervingly sharp chakra fluctuated to the tempo of her good cheer. Serpentine eyes glanced down at the camera in her hands, and at the recording held within it -of her dearest loved ones laughing joyously- a soft, endlessly fond smile alight upon her usually severe face.

 

It took the twins the longest to approach Aki with their own questions. They spent many late hours talking about it, wondering if they should bring it up. Wondering if, since they are not hers by blood, perhaps these questions may cause her to revoke her love. Worrying that perhaps her love was not unconditional. They spent weeks arguing and worrying and wondering, before Misaki, who had about as much patience as a squirrel on crack, dragged Ken along into their kaa-san's office.

They walked in to see Aki gazing out the large back window, calloused hands a hair's breadth away from touching the glass. Her hair fell limp down her back, messy and unkempt. The two exchanged worried looks, second-guessing their decision. Never before had they seen their kaa-san been so out of it, so distracted and absent.

Misaki, who usually served as both twin's voice, stepped forward. She gently snagged Aki's sleeve, tugging. Aki's eyes swung over to regard them, deep crimson flitting over the two. Nerves had her signing, rather than risk miscommunication from a rarely used voice. [Kaa-san? Are you alright?]

A shaky smile lit Aki's face, and weary hands signed a simple affirmative. She paused for a long moment, unfocused eyes flitting about rapidly. [Walk with me, Misaki, Ken?]

Twin nods answered her, and the three wandered out into the back training yard. A large oak stood before them, and Aki leaped up into its branches, perched with one hand bracing her weight against the branch. Sharing a look, Misaki and Ken followed her up. The dying light of the setting sun cast a hazy glow, and crimson eyes tracked the twins.

Balancing precariously, with not a drop of chakra to ground her on the branch, Aki held her hands up, [You have questions, yes?]

Nodding in unison, the twins shared yet another silent look, before Misaki took the lead. Her hands stumbled over their words, [Why did you take us? Weren't there better kids, easier ones?]

A fierce look stole its way onto Aki's face, and she tugged the twins into her arms. Rasping and scratching, her voice could never be described as elegant or beautiful. Protective and loving and oh so fierce, she declared, "Never have I ever wished for any other children, never would I trade either of you for anyone else."

Calloused fingers swept through their hair, ruffling and warm. Damaged, hazy eyes focused as best as they could, staring straight at her children of the heart and she smiled brightly, "You two are everything I have ever asked for."

Misaki grinned up at her, and Ken smiled, both clutching their kaa-san's hands. Then, with a shared mischievous look, the twins leapt away. Aki, her balance shifting, yelped as she slipped off the branch. She sat, dazed, on the soft grasses of the training field. The twins burst into raucous laughter, and she laughed cheerily, grinning brightly up at her sly little twins.

 

Before they knew it, Yoshi was five, and the Twins and Haruto - the Terrible Trio - were four. Thick as thieves and mischievous as all hell, those three got up to quite a bit of trouble as they grew, though Yoshi gave Deirdre just as many issues as the Terrible Trio gave Aki and Chihiro.

Yoshi, after attending the biannual Seven Rivers Tournament, declared that he would become the greatest taijutsu user to ever live, and claim the title of Rivermaster. Deirdre, being nowhere near a taijutsu expert, had little idea on how to help foster this dream. So in came his sister's old teammate, Kenta of the Second Breath. Despite being tragically blinded on a mission years back, the man was a remarkable taijutsu user. Even the loss of his sight and a few years of retirement weren't enough to make him rusty. Sensing and a strong perception of himself in space replaced his lost sight. Though understandably hesitant, the retired nin agreed to teach the young boy, and Yoshi flourished under his tutelage. Of course, Yoshi wasn't the only one to find a teacher.

After all, the Terrible Trio were never far behind their beloved cousin.

A few years after Yoshi found his sensei and when the Trio was eight, Ken made his way into the Guild of Oblivion. Needless to say, the interrogators were both bewildered and impressed by his audacity when they found him experimenting with some particularly nasty poisons in an old, out of the way poisons lab.

Small, glove-clad hands carefully held a small vial, and oil spill dark eyes focused intensely. Ken was propped up on a tall stool, sitting on his knees and precariously balanced. With a cursory glance at the thin leather journal that sat by his side, he slowly poured the contents of the vial into a flask of a shimmery liquid. Placing the vial down delicately, he picked up the flask and gently swirled its contents in a whirlpool of silver and poisonous green. He did not actively acknowledge the young interrogator who walked in on him, ignoring the stumbling of the chunin.

They were even more impressed -as well as wondering what the Heralds had taught this kid, he was batshit crazy- when he spent the next week unflinchingly needling the torture and interrogation experts and refused to run away even when they tried to scare the boy. Tsubame, a particularly sadistic poisons expert, eventually pulled the boy under her wing, having been immensely amused by his antics and remembering fondly the tricks she had pulled alongside his mother, Aki.

Aki, once she returned from a month-long mission, laughed -a bit hysterically, to be honest- when she heard about it, because of course. Only a child of the Twelve Heralds would be so bold, to have the pure audacity and guts to waltz into the Guild of Oblivion and charm them into teaching him. And with Ken's interests in recent years, she's not surprised that he pulled something like this.

She understands why, obviously. She'd do the same if she were in the Guild's shoes. And she really can't judge Ken, not when she got up to the same sort of mischief when she was young. The head of the guild, Atsuko, would be a fool to let such a talent slip past her, and Ken had always had high ambitions and a deep drive to prove himself. Doesn't mean she likes it, though. Doesn't mean she's not gonna mother hen that boy half to death.

She kept an eye on the situation, like any good mother would, though it was more unsanctioned stalking than anything else. Ken, having been taught how to sense others by the best of the best since he was a babe and with no small natural skill in chakra sensing, only pretended to not notice her. He understood, his mother worried about him and Misaki, especially when they got up to mischief and sneaking into the Guild of Oblivion was a lot more dangerous than any of their previous tricks.

In the end, she leaves him to it, because he's not only safe with the Guild of Oblivion. No, he's happy. He's motivated and proud of his accomplishments. And so, as any loving parent would, Aki would stand aside and let him shine.

She's seen how they treat her son, with kindness and pride. They ruffle his hair, pat his head, and Rokurou - she thinks that's his name - regularly holds a fist out for a fist bump. They push him and encourage him to be the best he can be. And yeah, maybe most of the affection comes after Ken has broken a man, and after he's mixed some truly terrifying poisons, but Aki can't bring herself to care. Her son is happy, and that's really all she's ever wanted for her kids.

Less than a week after Ken's adventures in the Guild of Oblivion, Misaki burst into the Guild of Red Flowers and gave the mother of all smackdowns to an intern who'd been giving out blatantly false medical advice, before turning around and bullying her way into her own apprenticeship with one of the best Healers on staff. The previously mentioned smackdown was made more effective by the deceptively thin roots that began to crawl up the intern's legs as she scolded him with all the fury of an exceptionally short seven-year-old. He ended up fleeing, in tears and embarrassed half to death. Healer Takashi, being a rather easy-going man when not wrangling stubborn patients, took her demands in stride -with no lack of amusement- and immediately put her on a grueling lesson plan. Misaki was as happy as can be and took to the lessons with vigor.

And just as with Ken before her, Aki took it upon herself to observe - or rather stalk - her daughter and those she interacted with. She took the news with little surprise, as Misaki browbeating someone three times her age is, surprisingly enough, not an uncommon sight, and she was stubborn as all hell any time she got an idea stuck in her head. If healing was what she wanted to do, then healing is what she's going to do. When Misaki committed herself to a task or cause, she would always see it through to the end.

And Misaki had decided to become the best goddamned healer this Clan has ever seen.

So it went, with Misaki pushing herself to the limits - and beyond - in the art of healing, utilizing both chakra methods and civilian methods. She haunted the halls of the Central Red Flowers hospital and the chaotic floors of the many Clan laboratories and lurked through the large central library. In a moment of adorable childishness, she chose to emulate her sensei, by stealing one of his lab coats and wearing it everywhere she went - at least when in the Clan lands. Ken, being equally as devious and mischievous and fully dedicated to his path, spent hour after hour observing and learning. He gained a rather unnerving - at least to outsiders- habit of sitting and people-watching, his gaze piercing and forever flicking from one target to the next.

And of course, never one to be left behind, Haruto soon conned his way into his own apprenticeship. The young boy applied every single stealth lesson he'd ever learned to infiltrate the ranks of the legendary White Horse Organization. Not only did he make his way into the highly guarded building, but made it past the first two clearance checks before being caught. Once again, the Guild Head's collectively cursed whoever saw fit to allow the Heralds - of all people - to raise children. They firmly ignored the fact that it was their revered Matriarch who had done so, and one even took to swearing that one of those odd shinobi gods - Hashin or Rashin or something along those lines - had it out for him, citing that one time he accidentally kinda sorta blew up an ancient temple of theirs.

He was very quickly ignored.

Hu Lin, Guildmaster of the White Horse Organization, had paused when he stepped into the compound, only to find a mischievous little fox in their path. Pinching the bridge of their nose, they snatched the blonde child up by the collar and sat him on a nearby desk. When Haruto went to get up, they shot the child a glare and signed a jerky ‘stay'. With a last lingering stare, Hu Lin left the room, intent on hunting down Chihiro and making her deal with her errant child.

Unfortunately for Hu Lin, Haruto was not one to listen. The moment they left his sensing range, the child recklessly dropped down off the desk and wandered out of the room. He poked his nose into several rooms, before coming across what appeared to be a lounge. Several White Horse members were in the room, relaxing and chatting.

With all the self-confidence and recklessness of a small child who never learned the word impossible, he marched up to a rather tall man with white war paint and long black dreads pulled into a high ponytail The man's dark eyes regarded the child curiously, and with no small amount of amusement. The White Horse, while no doubt an organization of skilled and unrepentant thieves and occasionally, assassins, they were also terrible gossips.

[Now, what are you doing down here, little laddie?] he asked the child, eyes gleaming and already scheming. Not every day that a child snuck their way into their lounge, and they'd be fools to ignore that. Haruto, well trained in the honorable art of puppy dog eyes and making oneself appear harmless - courtesy of Deirdre - smiled angelically. The man snorted. [Laddie, I do not believe that look one bit.]

Pouting, Haruto shrugged, and enthusiastically signed, [Worth a try. And I'm looking for a teacher!] He practically windmilled his arms every other word, bouncing in place and almost vibrating with restrained energy.

The man laughed, ruffled Haruto's hair, and declared that he liked him. A woman with short, choppy white hair barked out a laugh, agreeing full-heartedly. A series of murmurs and thoughts quickly made their rounds. And with that, he picked Haruto up, sat him upon his shoulder, and went to hunt down Hu Lin, the woman close on his tail.

By the end of the hour, the word had spread around, and those in the lounge decided then and there that they were gonna teach the stealthy little shit. After all, wasn't every day that a kid made it that far in before getting caught, and if he was anything like the other Herald brats over at Red Flower and Oblivion, he'd prove to be a wonderful source of entertainment.

Chihiro, being much less inclined to worrying than Aki or Deirdre, but ten times as suspicious, spent a good few months researching and observing the White Horse Organization, looking for their intentions with her precious son. At one point, she stopped Matsushita Moriko in the streets of the market. Matsushita being the White Horse operative who had taken young Haruto under her wings and had been his main teacher. Stood in front of a fresh produce stand, hair in a severe bun and a basket of apples on her arm, Chihiro stared the young operative down, eyes eagle-sharp and intuitive. Matsushita stared back unflinchingly. Chihiro inclined her head and disappeared back into the crowd.

And thus began the next chapter of their young lives.

The Terrible Trio threw themselves into their own personal studies and regularly met up to teach each other. They were also often taken aside by their parents for further studies, such as the Twins work with their mother's falcons and Haruto's training with a naginata. Yoshi continued his own studies, dutifully following after Kenta and, despite his lack of interest, endured his otōsan's kenjutsu lessons and his obaasan's lessons on diplomacy.

Misaki, with her uncanny abilities with plant life, which the Clan had never seem to such a degree, was often was pulled aside by Deirdre, to accompany him in the Clan's many gardens and fields and forests.

The two would walk, side by side, and Deirdre would gently push Misaki's limit. He would impart onto her the importance of the natural world, and of responsibility. He taught her to better listen to the plants, to ground herself and open her mind to the plant life around her, and simply listen. He guided her through meditation and gently pushed her into consciously accessing her abilities.

Though undoubtedly hardworking and determined children, they were still kids and easily found time for mischief and fun. The Trio relentlessly pranked the many guilds of the Clan and often left chaos in their wake. Everything from hidden whoopie cushions to elaborate paint traps that used creative seals, the Trio were without a doubt behind it. Catching them was the hard part. Haruto was as slippery as his mother's foxes and twice as fast. (The fennec fox summons held that it was due to his ‘unnaturally long legs' and therefore did not count.) The Twins, while not quite as fast as Haruto, were both experts at disappearing into the crowd, even Misaki with her blossom pink hair. They could easily weave their way through the markets, streets, alleyways, and rooftops, and lose their pursuers. Of course, being children, they still got caught often enough.

Yoshi, when they managed to drag him into their shenanigans, was the first to be caught, simply because he did not run. He preferred to face the consequences of his actions head-on and to apologize to anyone caught in his baby cousins' path. Needless to say, most found him to be a remarkably polite young man, if not a rather loud one. Well, as loud as any Clan member got, all things considered.

 

Four years later, Yoshi was promoted. At thirteen years old, he officially joined the Fighter's Guild of the Seven Rivers. Of course, as both a child and a new recruit, he would not see the field of the upper Tournaments for a few years yet, but he was well on his way. The day he received his acceptance, he raced for the Compound, kicking up dust and dirt and signing hurried, shorthand apologies to the many people he bumped into along the way.

"Otōsan!" he called, grinning widely and running through the gates and wildly waving his acceptance papers in the air. Turning sharply around a large bush, he ran directly into Deirdre, nearly knocking his poor father to the ground. Laughing sheepishly, he reached out to steady his father. While Deirdre didn't end up sprawled out on the stones, his potted cactus - a souvenir from Rikuto's recent mission to one of the Desert Outposts - was not so lucky. The vibrantly painted clay pot shattered on the ground. "...oops."

Deirdre brushed the loose dirt and sand off of his hands and tilted his head, thin fingers flying through his words, [What has you in such a rush, Yoshi-kun?]

He held out the acceptance papers, bouncing on his toes, "I got accepted into the Guild!"

Broken pot forgotten for the moment, a grin broke across Deirdre's face. He held the papers in a gentle hold, peering down at those fateful words, "I am so proud of you! I knew you could do it!"

He held an arm out, pulling Yoshi against his side as he read through the official statement of advancement. Walking side by side, the two made their way to Michiko's home, knocking a quick sequence against the doorframe before stepping in. There, they found her sitting in seiza as she worked on a delicate tapestry, needle flashing as she went. She glanced up through her eyelashes, a soft sort of joy glinting in those sharp amber depths. The slightest of smiles alit her face, as she inclined her head, gesturing for them to approach and to sit.

All languid canine and boneless grace, Deirdre sank down into the cushion and accepted the teacup Michiko held out with a soft hum of thanks. Yoshi plopped now, smiling sheepishly as Michiko leveled a reprimanding look at his lack of manners, but remained excited, near vibrating in his spot. He accepted the tea, taking a bracing sip.

[Michiko, Yoshi has some exciting news to share with you.] Deirdre smiled softly, proudly, one gloved hand brushing over Yoshi's braided hair. Michiko hummed a soft note, and gently placed her tea down. She gave the young taijutsu expert her full attention.

[I got accepted into the Fighter's Guild!] he signed, taking care to get each sign out correctly. Michiko's smile widened ever so slightly, and she reached out to brush light fingers across his cheek. Pride shined in her serpentine eyes.

[I am very proud of you, young Yoshi,] she praised, [You have worked hard, and that work has certainly paid off.]

Yoshi beamed up at her, bright and happy and proud. He closed his eyes, content and warm, basking in the comfort of family. He leaned into his father's side, tucked in close and safe. They stayed there for a long moment, soft and warm.

[So, who is to be your sensei?] Deirdre inquired, lifting up the abandoned papers and peering at the pages. Yoshi craned his neck to look and pointed out a section.

[Kenta-sensei said it'd be listed here… it says… Noriko?] He frowned, he didn't recognize the name. [Do you know a Noriko in the Fighter's Guild, Aunt Michiko?]

Michiko made a soft noise of recognition, gently placing her teacup down with the slightest clink of porcelain, [Yes. Noriko is a remarkable talent, well suited for teaching. She is honorable.]

It was not long after this that the small family met Noriko. Two weeks before Yoshi's scheduled start in the Guild, a broad woman with short, choppy brown hair approached the gate of the Compound. Rikuto, who had been catnapping in the warm spot of sunlight on top of the gatehouse, leaped from his perch before she could knock or fluctuate her chakra. Drawling through a set of lazy signs, he asked after her intentions while casually flicking a kunai into the air and catching it. Draping linen fabric shifted as her slinked closer in a move smoother than a man his size had any right to.

She paused, before visibly steeling herself. High ranking nin or not, facing a Herald was a different field altogether.

[I am Noriko. Are the guardians of Apprentice Yoshi home?] despite her obvious nerves, Noriko's hands were steady as she signed. She kept her head held high, meeting Rikuto's gaze steadily. Rikuto tilted his head, before turning on his heel.

[Keep up,] he short-hand signed, leisurely opening the large, heavy gates and strolling down the winding garden paths. Noriko hurried after him, being forced into a jog by her shorter stride. She gasped soundlessly as they rounded a corner, revealing Deirdre and Yoshi casually sparring in the front yard whilst Michiko sat on the engawa going over a pile of paperwork. A delicate tea set sat at her elbow.

Both Deirdre and Yoshi were blurs of color as they darted across the yard, and the quick flashes of Deirdre's shunshin had barely faded by the time they moved again in an awe-inspiring show of flexibility and speed. Though nimble and fast, Noriko noted, Yoshi was more grounded than his father. He seemed to prefer a more enduring style, with tough and direct attacks. Unusual, children's styles tended to mirror their parents, but very little of Deirdre's almost boneless fluidity was reflected in his son's movements. Could the rumors of Kenta leaving retirement to train the child be accurate? Peering closer, quick eyes picked out small bits of Kenta's signature style, in the exact balance of defense and offense, and in his low center of gravity.

While Deirdre, and Michiko for that matter, flowed across the field and often left the ground with a liquid smoothness and a patient listening, waiting and attacking at the right moment style, Yoshi threw himself wholeheartedly into the thrill of the spar, whirling in and pressing his advantage in a flurry of punches and palm strikes before disengaging to defend.

Rikuto smirked, watching the young teacher flash through quick signs to herself as she watched the spar, and outright snorted when her jaw dropped as Michiko suddenly dropped in as well, all flying oil spill hair and fluid, bonelessly graceful kicks. The sound of the collision of flesh echoed in the yard. Yoshi began to trip over his own feet, getting overwhelmed by the sudden change and the move away from routine. Soon, Michiko hooked his ankle, pulling him down to the ground, and keeping him down with a foot on his chest pressing just hard enough to prevent him from catching his breath. Trapped in her arms, a thin blade was held to the delicate flesh of Deirdre's neck and his arm was twisted behind his back. His attempts at escape were quickly quelled by the blade being pressed just hard enough to bleed, though light enough to do no true damage.

Noriko had heard of the prowess of Lady Michiko, of how she excelled in battle and of her exact control over her abilities, but it was another thing to see it. It was another thing to see the woman hold another person at knifepoint. Even in a friendly spar with her brother and nephew, Michiko was a fearsome figure, and even her years of homefront service did not dull her blades in the slightest. While her brother was like the river rapids and deep swells of the oceans and the pattering of rain, she was the biting wind of a summer thunderstorm, the haunting howling in the mountains. She was a tornado with cold, pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Noriko was torn from her thoughts as Michiko stepped back, releasing Deirdre -who was smiling wryly- and allowing the young Yoshi to gain his breath back.

The kid bounced up rather quickly, grinning up at Michiko and taking his defeat with good nature. The trio had a quick signed conversation out of Noriko’s sight before Yoshi bounced up to greet her.

[Salutations, I am Apprentice Yoshi!] he signed, staring up at her from behind dark bangs. Deirdre stood behind him, plucking small bits of grass and plant-life from the boy's hair, smiling fondly.

[I am Noriko, Apprentice Yoshi. I am to be your sensei.] she greeted, giving the young boy her full attention. Tapping his fingers against his throat in a traditional greeting, Yoshi bowed.

[Please take care of me, Noriko-sensei!]

And so, Yoshi began down the road to achieving his dreams of becoming one of the Clans greatest taijutsu experts.

Hiding a slight smile behind one voluminous sleeve, Michiko tugged Deirdre -easily ignoring his subvocal whine, the overprotective fool- away, leaving teacher and student to bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew this one was a doozy!!
> 
> I'll be posting some doodles of the kids and the heralds over on my art blog, doodlesofaprincess.tumblr.com !


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